A Shelter from the Storm reboot
by Azorrah Lee
Summary: When the time comes to lay your ambitions aside and have some fun you know a couple of things are guaranteed: Alcohol, Sex and Drama


**A/n: For those who care... A shelter from the stor reboot.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee nor any of the character's depicted in this fic.**

* * *

"You look just like her," the man smiled; teeth perfect, hair perfect, suit perfect. The monster was well hidden beneath the handsome face, the extravagant lifestyle and the southern charm, "Your mother was so beautiful, too good for that glorified mechanic."

"Mechanical Engineer," Kurt held his tongue, he knew to respect his elders. He smiled sweetly at the aging man that sat across from him, "No, I'm not defending my parents' relationship to you. Uncle Hollis, why are we doing this? Why are you here now?"

"Can't an old dog buy his favourite nephew lunch because he misses him," Kurt looked at the dazzling toothy grin; his gut clenched and looked to his lap. He tried to meet the man's gaze but he dared not look into his grey eyes, her grey eyes, his own grey eyes; his gaze stopped just below them and turned out to the empty Columbus restaurant, "We're gonna have us a time, you did recently have a birthday." Kurt stopped, he was sixteen, a little fact that his uncle kept reminding him came with an assortment of privileges. Kurt looked the menu over and tried to sway his mind to a kosher place; Hollis had waved over the waiter, "We're celebrating, give us a bottle of _Dom Perignon_. And keep 'em coming."

"And what will you be drinking sir?" the waiter had turned to Kurt.

"Which part of 'us'," Hollis gestured to the pair melodramatically with rage to his ears, "don't you understand? Bring us a new waiter too and they better have more balls than you."

"Uncle Hollis," the man shot Kurt a disciplinary look, "Hollis, it's the middle of the day and I still have a shift at Breadsticks, I'm tutoring a dyslexic kid at three and Advanced Placement Comparative World Politics class to attend this afternoon; I can't afford to be drinking. This is all outside the fact that I'm underage."

"Are you done?" The man's voice was firm; Kurt nodded like a child that was being disciplined, "Good. You're going to get rid of all your plans; tell the truth, lie, I don't care. Then you're going to have some champagne with me and stop behaving like a sulking child. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," Kurt's voice barely rose above a whispered. He hated the person that this man turned him into; he made Kurt feel like a child, a foolish one at that. Kurt pulled his iPhone out and called the elementary school where he was supposed to be tutoring that afternoon to postpone his appointment, he sent his boss a text message asking for a personal day and then he put a smile on his face as Hollis poured him a glass of champagne.

"Eight kids and not one of them calls me sir, well at least that mechanic can do something right," Kurt shot the man a burning look. "Now, I saw me another one of these Asian kids on television," Hollis leaned in closer to Kurt as he spoke with casual racism. He pulled the silver cigar box with his initials engraved into it that Kurt had bought him for his birthday back when he was fond of the man, he offered one to Kurt as he lit one of his own, "This one's doing cancer research at John Hopkins, why is it that you're still wasting you're genius in that old town of yours?"

Kurt let out a sigh, he knew where this conversation was going and he hated that he could never tell the man off; "I'm not ready to go to university and I haven't done anything to warrant early admission."

"Nonsense, you're a Doyle and that's enough."

"I'm a Hummel," Kurt mumbled under his breath, he was startled by the slamming of Hollis's hand on the table. The look that he was met with spoke in volumes of the man's insanity; those were no longer his mother's eyes but now the eyes of a mad man, "I'm sorry."

"You ought to watch what you say," the man blew smoke in Kurt's face as he looked him up and down, "The President's Chief of Staff owes me a favour, you work in the White House for two weeks and boom, you got yourself a golden ticket to any university on this here planet."

"I like school," He whispered, "I like doing sixteen year old things."

The man looked him over before blowing smoke in his direction once more, "I bet you do," he said with a hearty chuckle and a waggle of his brow. He pulled out three brown envelopes and laid them before Kurt; each was addressed to him, "Open 'em"

Kurt opened the first envelope, there was a contract signed by his mother; he opened the second envelope to find a similar contract but this time it was signed 'Hollis Doyle'; the final envelope had a contract with the White House seal at the top. Kurt skimmed through the contents of each contract but couldn't wrap his head around the contents of the envelopes, "What is this?"

"The first one is a trust fund your mother set up that matured over the summer," Kurt's eyes were the size of dinner plates, Hollis looked mighty pleased with himself, "sorry but getting the account to unfreeze took longer than anticipated."

"This says I get more in a month than I make at the garage, the restaurant, tutoring and in allowance in a year!" Kurt was hyperventilating; he was used to money, his parents had always been well off but that had never been his and this was on a whole new level, "That's absurd, where did mom get this kind of money? Because I ran the numbers and it's more than ten million dollars a year!"

"Between her time as an investment banker and the family's multibillion dollar company, she managed to scrape something together," Hollis smiled broadly, Kurt knew not to look the ego in the eye or it would kill him, "The second envelope is a birthday gift from me to my favourite person."

"Oh but you already got me a key-ring and isn't that what every sixteen year old wants from their rich relatives?" Kurt said sarcastically, "It's double the first trust! That's a lot of money, I can't accept this; I'm sixteen, what am I supposed to do with this money?"

"Buy a new wardrobe, a car, an apartment in every major city, a small country and a jet to fly you there. Heck you could burn it for all I care! Consider this…a set of training wheels," he leaned in close to Kurt and spoke in a whisper, "There's only one rule and it's more of a guideline; you don't tell anyone how much it is, not your father, my kids or any of your little friends."

"It's ninety million paid over five years," Kurt leaned in close; their faces where an intimate distance from each other and their voices barely above a whisper, not that there was anyone around to hear because Hollis had cleared the restaurant, "Who would believe me?"

The waiter approached cautiously with their meals, he placed a hamburger in front of Kurt. Before Kurt could even open his mouth to speak, Hollis raised a finger, "I ordered for you. You're still just pescetarian, no other weird shit."

"You remembered," Kurt smiled and for a moment forgot the evil, it was the little things that kept Kurt coming back for the punishment that came with his relationship with his uncle, "What is this thing?"

"A grilled shrimp po'boy," the man smiled and gestured the waiter over, "bring a bottle of Gewürztraminer for my nephew and bring me a bottle of Bzart Lambiek Brut."

"Well, I guess now that I have ninety million, lunch is on me." Kurt giggled to himself and shook his head in disbelief, "that'll never stop sounding ridiculous."

"Firstly, don't be ridiculous; I have at least fifty times that so lunch is still on me. Secondly, it'll stop being ridiculous after a couple of extravagant purchases." The man scoffed and reclined in his seat as he lit a new cigar, "You're the best out of all these kids, you'd be the air to the dynasty if it weren't for that gay thing. It would counterproductive to keeping it in the family."

Kurt laughed loudly, "Oh, if I were remotely interested I would grace that with a witty retort but I'm not looking to go into oil or energy or natural gas. I was born into that."

"Oh yes," Hollis laughed louder before turning deadly serious just long enough to deliver a jeer at Kurt, "I'd forgotten I was sitting with Hillary Rodham Clinton, you left wing nut."

"Let's not start the political conversation," Kurt said trying not to sound too pleased with the comparison with a lifelong idol.

"The only thing you and Hillary will do in the White House is done on your knees," he wagged a finger at Kurt, the waiter was so shocked that he nearly dropped the ice bucket, "I wish you had so you'd have to replace a forty thousand dollar bottle of champagne, you eavesdropping swine."

"Sorry sir."

"With my help," The man laughed to himself, "Let's say you wouldn't be the first person I put in the white house. That brings me to the third envelope, that there is an offer for a summer internship with the White House Chief of Staff and before you get your knickers in a twist; I had Trixxie compile a completely honest résumé and she pulled one of your liberal blog rants off the internet."

"I don't know what to say," Kurt looked the contract over, "At least something you gave me doesn't have money attached, I was starting to think you were buying my love."

"Don't get fresh with me," his voice was gruff and finite, "I'm being deadly serious."

"I didn't say it wasn't working," Kurt let out a deep breath, "I'd have to think about it, not that it's not a great opportunity that I'm so grateful for but I'll have to assess the impact that working with a republican administration would have on my future political career."

"Good boy," he snapped his fingers and the waiter took away their meals and placed a soufflé in front of him.

"Strawberry?" Kurt asked before tasting it.

"Even better," the man smirked, "pomegranates."

"You know," Kurt returned the smirk, "When you're like this you're actually bearable."

~0~

Kurt sat at the dinner table silently as his father, Carole and Finn spoke sport, he thought back to the ride back from Columbus and the ninety million dollar training wheels he had been given. Kurt couldn't help but smile to himself, "I quit!"

"You do realise that you can't quit family," his father spoke firmly and with slight undertone of anger and hurt, "when you're unhappy, you negotiate and things change; no quitting."

"I quit my job at the garage," Kurt laughed at the idea of quitting his life; he considered it for a moment, "It really doesn't have any use to me because I can't use my father as a reference, I have enough for a car so I don't need the extra money."

"I'll call Paul and tell him," Carole announced sounding happy for Kurt, "He'll be glad to be rid of that car."

"Guess I'm the only one still working for a car," Finn said trying to guilt their parent's into covering the balance of his car.

"Kurt worked three jobs and he negotiated a good deal with Paul." Carole said throwing that idea out the window.

"Finn, you can take over that deal," Kurt tried not to be smug but it was so hard, he couldn't help but smirk to himself, "I'm buying a new car."

"Burt," Carole seemed worried, "How much are you paying these kids? I seem to remember a certain pea coat dipping into your savings."

"Not that much," His father disregarded whatever thought had entered his head, "waiting tables must me more lucrative than it used to be."

"Tutoring special needs students is a high demand, low supply business." Carole and his father carried on bouncing different ideas of how he got the money off each other.

"If you want the real source of my money," Kurt spoke in the most patronising tone he had in his arsenal, "you a can always ask me."

Kurt got up to leave; Carole looked bewildered, "Where are you going? Dinner's not over."

"I have a headache," She tried to stare him down but she was really bad at it because she blinked excessively when she did it. In an effort to spare her feelings Kurt sat back down, "As you were."

"Tell us," Burt said with a smile, "we can't guess."

"I'm using my trust fund," he said casually looking at his nails.

"Duh," Carole said with a face palm.

"Since when do you have a trust fund?" Burt asked with a confused look on his face, "Bad question, since when do you have access to it?"

"Since midday."

"That would explain why you weren't at school," his father leaned in, "How did you break the clause or did you age five years today?"

"It matured when I turned sixteen;" Kurt was confused as well now, "Uncle Hollis gave me the paper work today."

"That man," Carole shook her head and engaged in a staring contest with the wall, "You remember what he said to about me at our wedding."

"I remember," Burt said holding her hand, "I also remember who invited him. What I don't know is how he even knew about the trust fund let alone had access to it."

Kurt was really confused at this point, "He's the executor."

"He kills people professionally?" Finn asked excitedly, at least Kurt wasn't the most confused person in this conversation.

"No," Kurt knew this would go over Finn's head but decided to do it for his own enjoyment, "he does it recreationally."

"I executed that trust," his father said angrily.

"Have you considered that it may be a different trust?" Carole asked him in soothing voice.

"That works," his father calmed down, "that would have been awkward, me having to arrest your favourite uncle and all."

"I frankly would be glad to have seen the last of that man," Carole said with a shudder.

Finn threw his hands up in defeat, "I have no idea what's going on."

"Let's backtrack just a bit," Kurt said ignoring what Finn was saying, "hypothetically, if I had cut school; why are you so casual about it?"

"Please, you always toe the line. I thought you had a doctor's appointment," his father chuckled, "some kids do bad things and others live by the rules."

"You don't know my story," Kurt exclaimed in offense, "maybe I do meth? Have you ever thought about that?"

"I can totally see the future president doing meth," Carole said with a laugh.

"Is that what you do in the basement?" Burt said with a chuckle, "Do you have a meth lab down there?"

"Okay, let me try," Finn said demanding the floor, "Is that what happens in libraries?"

"You see we have bigger things to worry about than you doing the right thing," Carole said sweetly, "Like if Finn can read."

"Or if he's mastered the art of tying his shoe laces," his father said with a laugh.

"Are you two high?" Kurt asked looking at the laughing adults, "Because I have a political career to worry about." Kurt paused for a moment, "Okay so that's clearly what I really sound like."

"We're not high," Carole announce firmly.

"We're just having a really mild joint midlife crisis," his father spoke in serious voice, "We should get tattoos, the whole family."

"Cool!" Finn looked excited whereas Kurt could just imagine how mortified he looked.

"That was a joke," Burt said in a serious voice, "We're high not stupid."

"We'd never get more tattoos," Carole said shaking her finger in time with her head, "I am not going down that road again."

"I just threw up a bit in my mouth," Kurt said as he and Carole cleared the table.

~0~

Kurt had decided to pop into the car dealership during his morning free period and buy himself a car, his head was still reeling at the idea. He had no idea what he wanted now that the sky was the limit; he was sure that it had to be elegant and sophisticated. He sat patiently in the waiting room.

"Good morning," the handsome car salesman said with prized smile that fell when he saw Kurt, "I'm sorry but I'm expecting a Mr Hummel. He cancelled all of my morning appointment, you can call to reschedule."

"That's not very polite," Kurt frowned at the man, who simply shrugged arrogantly, "I'm Kurt Elizabeth Doyle Hummel and I'd like a different salesman."

"I apologise sir," the man was suddenly humbled, "I just expected someone older, it's very rare to have someone as young and, if you don't mind my saying, as beautiful as you having their vetting done over the phone."

"I am beautiful, aren't I?" Kurt smiled to himself for a moment, "tell my new dealer, won't you. I would hate for the same misunderstanding to occur twice." Kurt smirked as he lounged in waiting room couch; it was very luxurious, "Also, bring me a chai skinny latte."

"Yes Mr Hummel," the dejected man hurried off with his tail between his legs.

Within moments of the man's disappearance he was replaced with a tall slender woman who wore a beautifully tailored pantsuit, "Good morning Mr Hummel, I apologise for the wait, I am Alexandria Novak and I'll be helping you find the perfect first car that suits your needs and your budget." She smiled, her smile seemed less put on than that of her predecessor but she still failed to achieve the warmth she was trying for.

"Let's get started," Kurt was abrupt and cold, "I have a class in forty-five minutes."

"What is your budget?" she asked trying to get Kurt's attention away from the game of Candy Crush Saga that had distracted him.

"Honey that simply depends on how good you are at your job" he spoke without looking up from his phone.

"Jesus Brad let a big one go," she mumbled as she led Kurt toward the brighter side of the showroom, "This is this year's model Porsche Cayman, top of the line. This car is sleek and elegant; the three hundred and twenty-five horsepower engine gets to sixty miles an hour in less than five seconds and has a top speed of a hundred and seventy."

Kurt tilted his head, "It's small."

"Don't be fooled by its size," she smiled at him, "This car is packed with power and delivers a kick."

"I have friends," Kurt looked at the car, "I don't see us fitting into this two-seater very well."

"I see," she walked him over to a second car, "This is a BMW 6 series convertible, it's-"

"No Convertibles," he said stopping her mid-sentence, "My hair isn't just amazing, that takes work. You have five minutes left before I leave and never come back."

"Yes, of course." She was stumped; he could almost hear the cogs in her mind turning.

"If you don't have anything for me then I'm afraid I'll have to take my business elsewhere." He was firm with her, reminding her that she needed this sale more than he needed to purchase his vehicle at this dealership, "Two minutes."

"Okay, I've got nothing to lose by showing you this," she walked him to a large black SUV, "This is a Mercedes Benz G65 AMG in black matte, it seats five comfortably."

"I like it," Kurt said looking the monstrosity, it was so far out of his comfort zone; it was big, obnoxious and masculine yet it was understated and elegant. Kurt knew this car spoke volumes of its owner but he didn't care, "I'll take it. Can I drive it off the lot?"

"This car costs about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars," she said, Kurt didn't flinch at the price. He remained cool as she tried to break him, "I'll draw up the paper work." She escorted him into her office, "Which finance plan have you and your parents agreed on? Would you like in house financing or do you have an external financer?"

"I was hoping to pay by cheque," Kurt smiled sweetly as she looked confused, he pulled out his new cheque book and quickly filled it out along with the appropriate forms, "I was vetted already so I'm a confidence customer, I can take the car immediately."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," She said shaking his hand.

"Just promise to rub your twenty grand commission in Brad's face," he smiled and threw the latte he hadn't drank in the bin, "also tell him his latte sucks ass, and not in the good way."

Kurt waltzed over to his brand new car, he sat in the driver's seat; adjusted his mirrors, put his monstrosity in drive and was off to school. Kurt arrived in time for his first class of the day; he took his seat near the front of his Advanced Calculus class, he was taking the senior class to open up his schedule in senior year for college classes. Kurt knew that the sacrifice of a functional social life in favour of a full schedule was a worthy one.

"Kurt," he was surprised to hear his name, "psst, Hummel."

"Me?" Kurt asked as he looked at the ginger in a letterman jacket who had called his name, "Do I know you?"

"You're funny man," Kurt was confused because he couldn't see any humour in what he'd said but smiled because it was polite, "That's a sweet ride you got."

Kurt rolled his eyes; he hoped that people wouldn't try to be his friends now that he had a 'sweet ride'. He turned back to the board to see an upset Ms McLean, "The answer is one over the squareroot of one minus 'x' squared. He was speaking to me."

"Correct but don't let people distract you from your work," she smiled that never fading smile of hers and went on to explain how Kurt had gotten his answer.

Kurt shrank into his seats and did his math problems like a good student does; he refused to talk to anyone because he didn't really know anyone in this class, it was a new year and he didn't need another teacher hating him so early in the year.

He rushed out of the class as soon as the lesson was over; walking briskly to the choir room he was stopped by Coach Sylvester.

"Lady,what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully?" as she spoke she managed to do a freakishly accurate Al Pacino impersonation, "If you'd come to me as a Cheerio, I'd keep you safe. And if by chance an honest man like yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you."

"You've got to be kidding me coach," Kurt was disconcerted by her undying desire to have him on the cheerios again, "I'm not interested in being a cheerleader."

"George W. Bush was a cheerleader," she whispered in his ear before walking away, "We'll discuss it at practice later today."

Kurt didn't understand her motives and quite frankly he had neither the time nor the brain space to contemplate the method behind the madness; he placed his maths books in his locker and was off on his next period.

"Kurt, you're late." Mr Schuster announced.

"You're sad and alone," Kurt mumbled as he took his regular seat at the back of the group.

"I know you're sorry but that behaviour won't get us to nationals," Mr Schuster went off on a tangent based on a falsified paraphrase of what he'd said, "We need all the practice we can get, so in future please be on time."

"That's not what I said," Kurt shook his head; nobody was listening to him as usual, "I have ninety million dollars."

"Good, so you'll make an effort to be on time," Mr Schuster turned and started writing on the dry erase board, "Beginnings. Today we start on a new journey and that's this week's assignment, I'd like to see you all attempt it. You can have five minutes to discuss it whilst I find Miss Pillsbury."

"Sweet Lady Hummel," Santana pushed Mercedes out of the seat beside him, she protested but Santana ignored her, "Welcome to the dark side."

"I don't know what you mean Satan," Kurt said staring at the girl blankly, "I'm sure you don't know what you mean."

"The rumour mill spotted you leaving school with a blond forty-something and now you have a brand new car," she smirked and kept making her index fingers touch, "Me thinks you traded your virginity in for a swanky black SUV."

"By rumour mill you mean Rachel," Kurt shook his head in disbelief as Santana nodded, "I don't know what to do with that girl."

"Punch her in the boob," Kurt moaned at the idea of bringing pain to Rachel Berry; Santana chuckled, "Stop fantasising about punching Rachel!"

"But it would be so good just once in the neck," Kurt smiled as he melted at the thought, "Then no one would have to hear her. I shudder at the thought that we used to be best friends."

"In elementary school, I remember." Santana let out a deep hearty laugh, "Whatever happened to you two?"

Kurt tried to think back to when they had ended their friendship, "Well, I apparently became an evil bitch. Speak of the devil."

"Hi Kurt," She smiled and flipped her hair for no reason, she also spoke in a hushed voice at the top of her lungs for no reason, "I saw you."

"And you continue to see me; it's one of my community service ventures," he knew what she was alluding to but chose to play her game, "Get to your point, your sweater is causing loss of vision in my right eye."

"You have some gall," she scoffs at him, "I saw you getting into that town car leaving school with your patron, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Honestly, and then you show up at school in that planet killing monstrosity."

"Oh," Kurt smiled and looked relieved, he was putting on a show, "that's lovely but I don't see the relevance."

"So you're not going to deny it," She asked him. Kurt was surprised by how reserved her line of questioning was, her voice stayed level and she refrained from causing a scene; it was so out of character, "I'm worried about you."

"Rachel Berry, we're not friends and that was you decision," he squared up the shorter girl and gave her an icy stare, "So I don't owe you an explanation and you don't get to worry about me. Go on; go do what all frozen things do in summer."

"I'll pray for you," she attempted to stare him down but Kurt's cold emotionless face always seemed to win out in these kinds of situation, "Santana."

"Man hands," Santana smirked back at her before turning to Kurt, "Tell me, where does one get a patron that's got rolling like a middle-eastern dictator?"

"You just have to be born into the right family," Kurt said with a sweet smile.

"Wait," Santana looked shocked for a moment as she turned what she'd just heard over in her head and tried to conceptualise the conclusions she was drawing, "You just let Berry say all that shit when you knew very well you were in the clear? Why?"

"Why not?"

The warning bell sounded as an announcement of the beginning of lunch period; as Kurt gathered his things he noted Rachel staring at him out the corner of his eye, he smiled and waved at her. He stopped in front of the notice board on his way to the cafeteria; since quitting his third job he had the extra time for another club, society or volunteer organization. He contemplated lobbying a cause but after a moment's thought realised that he would be able to do that more effectively as college student as he'd have a greater position in the community. Suddenly a flyer caught his eye;

'Help wanted, young student's needed to volunteer time to spend time with patients at St Regis Lima Presbyterian Hospital. Hours flexible.'

Kurt knew that this was something he had to do, he knew very well how much it meant to a patient and their family to have someone there when the family can't be there. He called the number immediately to get himself involved in the programme.

"Kurt," Mr Schuster stopped as he walked by, "No phones on school grounds."

"Good morning, I'm Kurt Hummel and I'd like to volunteer for your outreach programme," Kurt smiled as he flipped Mr Schuster off behind his back.

'Hello, you're speaking to Giles Forsyth. When are your available to volunteer?"

Kurt consulted his day planner as he sat at an empty table, "I'm available today after five, actually every Wednesday after five; Fridays between eleven and three; and Mondays between nine and one."

'Are you looking to fill all three sessions?'

"Sure," Kurt smiled at the prospect of giving himself over, "I'd prefer it."

'How do you feel about working with children and the elderly?'

"I'm flexible," He spoke with a seriousness in his voice, "I would be willing to work with anyone really."

'And when would you like to start?'

"As soon as possible," Kurt was thrilled by what a volunteer initiative like this meant for his future; this meant he could be a cold bitch and still be painted as caring, "I already have all possible inoculations so that isn't a problem and I had my pre-term physical last week, I could bring medical results in with me."

'Come by this afternoon, I have just the case for an eager beaver like yourself.'

"Thank you so much I really appreciate the opportunity," He smiled into the phone before bidding his salutations.

"What has you so giddy?" Noah Puckerman asked as he sat beside Kurt.

Kurt was confused by the boy's behaviour, "Why are you talking to me?" he raised a brow and leaned away from the larger boy, "If memory serves, we're not friends."

"I'm trying new things," he gave Kurt sideways smirk that made Kurt feel uncomfortable; "I thought you'd be accommodating to a little… change."

"I'm not sleeping with you!" Kurt's eyes were shocked, he hoped that he was misinterpreting the situation because he was not one to be hit on; in spite of the fact that statistically one in ten people were homosexual, he had always flown below the radar when it came to engaging in any remotely sexual behaviour and he wasn't about to let that change, "Despite what the rumour mill may say to the contrary, I'm not accommodating to change."

"Ouch," Noah laughed to himself, "Ego much, I think if I was hitting on you that might have hurt. I mean, I'm trying to be better behaved; I went to juvie and I never want to be in the system ever again. People say that the company you keep speaks volume of your character, I don't know where they got that idea but I'm giving it a try for my mother's sake."

"It's from the bible," Kurt was met with a blank stare; "it's the first verse in the book of Psalms."

"I never pegged you as the religious type," Noah chuckled to himself, "Who'd have thunk the Princess was a bible thumper."

"Thought, 'thunk' isn't a real word. Secondly, I am not religious nor am I bible thumper; someone of my level of intellect is supposed to be well read, I understand five different religious sects but I personally choose to follow a more spiritual and metaphysical scientific understanding of life, the universe and everything. Lastly, Princess?"

"Princess," he smiled, "I'm sure Disney is making a movie about you to appease their rabid twelve year old fan base as we speak."

"Those rabid twelve year olds will be voters when I run for office in twenty forty-eight," Kurt laughed, leaned into the taller boy and threw a grape in his face, "So I guess I win."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Finn demanded as he pulled Rachel into the seats opposite the pair.

Noah was silent, Kurt laughed at the awkward nature if the situation; the tension between Finn and Noah was unsurmountable; he and Rachel were exchanging death stares; all of this was ignited by the undying sexual tension between the three of them, for a second Kurt thought that included him but pushed that idea aside due to its absurdity. He smiled at Finn, "It's Lunch time so I had this obscene idea that just maybe, and this is the crazy part, I would eat but apparently Noah is also living on the edge and had a similar idea."

Noah laughed at Kurt's patronising tone, "We're just two loons doing what crazy people do at lunch time."

"Madness!" Kurt exclaimed.

Finn's face twisted in thought, "Are you patriotising me?"

"Patronising sweetheart."

"I don't understand the initial question," Kurt had cut the bullshit and had recalled his icy demeanour, "What's wrong with me sharing a meal with a fellow member of the school show choir?"

"It's Puck." Finn whined, "He slept with my girlfriend."

"You're eating with Rachel and I'm not complaining," Kurt was on the prowl once more, he decided to take the offensive, "If anything I should be the one asking questions, just this morning she accused me of being a whore."

"Rachel would never do that without a reason," Finn spoke with a nonchalant air about him, "Are you a whore?"

Kurt got up and gathered his stuff. "You're a colossal idiot," Puck said behind him as he stormed off, "What the fuck kind of question is that?"

Kurt stopped short when he heard the smack of flesh on flesh and the crack of bone on bone. Kurt turned to see Finn standing over Noah, within split seconds Noah was over the cafeteria table and had tackled Finn to the ground. Kurt was perplexed; should he intervene because it was the right thing to do or watch the boy who just asked if he was whore take a beating? 'I'm trying to be better behaved', Noah's voice echoed in his head and before the first punch could be delivered Kurt pulled the tan boy off his brother.

"Maybe you didn't hear what he had to say about you but that shit don't fly with me," Noah said as he fought against Kurt as he was led out of the cafeteria.

"Part of being a better man is not rising to the occasion when provoked," Kurt lectured as he steadied the boy up against the girls bathroom sink, "he baited you and you went for it hook, line and sinker. He's trying to prove something to someone, probably me, about your character."

"How does punching me in the face constitute bait?" Noah demanded as her took deep breaths to get his anger under control, "That's like fishing with a shotgun!"

"This might sting initially," Kurt placed his icepack over the boy's eye, "It regulates the temperature in order to reduce swelling."

"You just carry an ice pack around?" Noah laughed at the idea, "What are you always waiting in the wings to be a knight in shining armour to the recently punched?"

"No, it's actually to keep my lunch bag at a constant temperature and my fruit pieces fresh." Kurt removed the icepack to assess the damage, "It won't swell too badly but you may have slight discolouring."

"Battle scar," Noah punched the air, "Awesome."

"No scar," Kurt was flawed by the idea that anyone would relish at the idea of a permanent disfigurement, "but it will resemble a shiner, I'd offer you concealer but we're not the same skin tone."

"I will wear my shiner with honour," He smiled at Kurt for a moment, "I was defending your honour."

"Oh wow," Kurt smiled back as he packed away  
his stuff, "Team touched."

Noah stood up straight and stepped into Kurt's space, he placed a large calloused hand on the delicate line of Kurt's jaw; he leaned in and gently ran his lips over Kurt's own. Kurt was shocked by the taller boy's actions, he took a step back before freezing; he couldn't move, he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Noah came closer and planted a tender kiss on Kurt's cheek, Kurt felt himself being pulled in by the larger boy; he felt dizzy as he felt himself twirled and pushed up against the sink as the larger boy ravaged his neck. The feeling was ecstasy, there was electricity flowing from Noah's lips in through Kurt's skin.

"Wait," Kurt spoke firmly, sounding like a disciplining parent; the other boy froze, "Stop. if you want things to be different than they were, then you have to be different than you were. You can't think that the fact that I'm not a girl makes your hyper sexualised behaviour okay. Just take some time to think about where 'whatever this feeling is' is coming from."

"So you're telling me not to think with my dick?" Noah sounded dejected, "I can do that."

"I'm not telling you anything," Kurt was firm in his tone but he knew that sounding like the boy's mother wouldn't be conducive to the situation, "This is your life decision and as such you have to follow your own course of action as the master of your own destiny."

~0~

"Ladies, here comes our ticket to yet another national's championship," Coach Sylvester shouted as Kurt entered the gym, "Put your hands together for your newest co-head cheerleader, Lady Porcelain Tickle-Me-Doughface Hummel."

There was a round of applause driven mostly by fear, "Coach Sylvester, I haven't even agreed to re-join the squad. The reason I'm here is because you put a wheel clamp on my car."

"And that's where it'll stay until you re-join the squad," She crossed her arms over her chest before roaring at the rest of the squad, "The rest of you will do twenty laps of the track, fifty pull-ups, fifty sit-ups and fifty push-ups in a loop until Mr Hummel accepts my offer."

"I don't care," Kurt squared her up, "I'll buy a new car."

"Ladies get started!" Coach Sylvester scowled at him, "You may be able to replace your car but not your friends."

"Why do you even want me on the squad so badly?" Kurt asked her whilst still holding her gaze, "I'm not a spectacular gymnast."

"It came to me in a dream," Sue looked off into the distance, "The ultimate sequel to your fourteen minute Celine Dion medley; the tap-dancing Beyoncé tribute extravaganza! Lead by that beautifully delicate soprano of yours and the sultry stylings of Santana Lopez."

"Blasphemy!" Kurt spoke firmly, "One does not simply tribute Beysus! Yoncé is the living goddess, you wouldn't dare risk the shame it would bring you if you failed."

"Try me," Coach Sylvester raised her bullhorn and screamed at him; "I'm self-healing a bullet wound as we speak and you think I can't handle Beyoncé?"

Kurt gave the idea a moment's thought, "I'll do it but only on one condition; I don't have to wear that horrible uniform to school."

"Out of the question."

"Have fun finding another soloist," He smirked at the elder woman, "Maybe you should try Rachel Berry."

"Are you crazy saying that name in my presence?" Kurt could hear Coach Sylvester's teeth grinding, "Deal. Get changed and join the rest of the flying monkeys on their exercise loop. This squad needs intense cardio and strength exercise so that you can pull Beyoncé off effortlessly. Your locker is ready and waiting."

Kurt knew that this was a decision he would live to dread, he was changing into his uniform when he noticed that there simply wasn't as much of it as there used to be. He struggled into the uniform; it appeared to be a length problem more than anything else. Kurt stormed out of the locker room and headed straight to Coach Sylvester.

"Oh good, you're changed." She smiled as she looked him over, "Get to work."

"You've had your laugh," Kurt was livid, "Where are my real pants?"

"Those are your new pants." She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of him, "I thought it was only fair you show as much leg as the female cheerios, consider it your statement on gender equity."

"These shorts are obscene," Kurt gestured to his legs, "Someone is going to be blinded by the sun's glare off my pale pasty legs!"

"That sounds like a 'you' problem," She spoke the rest of the statement through the megaphone, "Not a Sue problem."

Kurt reminded himself that he had committed to this team, there were so many things he could do with a cheerleading scholarship and so many universities that he could attend. Kurt ran laps around the football field with the rest of the squad; there was a practice taking place and out the corner of his eye he caught sight of Puckerman flexing and disaster ensued. Kurt stopped paying attention to his path and ran into the rest of the team which resulted in a fifteen girl pile up and himself.

"Jesus!" Santana screeched as her face collided with Quinn's shoulder, "Kurt! Watch where you're going, I could burst an implant here."

"Sorry," he shook his head as he got out from under Brittany, "I got distracted."

The rest of the cheerios got up and went on with their exercise in an angry huff, Kurt called out an apology after them but they weren't having it. Santana stood before him with a cocked hip, "Who was distracting you?"

"Not a 'who'," Kurt lied to Santana and himself, "But rather it was a 'what' that distracted me. I finally figured out the angle I'm using on my Comparative World Politics assignment."

"You have one little growth spurt and you start thinking you're smarter than everybody," Santana shook her head before pulling him aside just in time for a football to miss his head, "Firstly, you haven't been to a politics class and secondly, we don't have an assignment."

"Oh, just missed the fairy." The pair of footballers exchanged fist bumps, Kurt flipped them off before turning back to his conversation.

"I grew?" Kurt hadn't noticed any physical changes in himself; all his clothes still fit pretty much the same and it was a good way to divert the conversation, "I hadn't even noticed."

"You're a good five inches taller," Santana replied as though it were the most obvious thing on the planet, "but you're trying to distract me from the fact that someone is distracting you, who is it?"

"Honestly?" Kurt knew very well there would be no honesty but was instead distracting her for long enough for her to get bored of this line of questioning, "I'm planning revenge on Finn for calling me a whore."

"Finn," She shuddered in disgust as she said his name, "I had sex with him once and he cried. The ultimate punishment would be making him have sex with himself."

"Shut up!" Kurt was flawed by this new bit of information, "It was that bad?"

"Worst twenty-seven seconds of my life."

Coach Sylvester appeared in the door way with her bullhorn in hand, "thanks to the lax attitudes of both your head cheerleaders, you will now be doing an additional fifty suicides."

The girls turned and stared daggers at the pair who chose that very moment to start running; they now feared for their lives because the squad seemed to no longer be running laps but rather hunting them down.

"Ladies," Kurt called out to the rabid teenage girls behind him, "We weren't socialising, we were discussing matters of crucial importance to the entire squad."

"We would never do anything to jeopardise the integrity of this squad," Santana was met with growls, "The truth is we were polishing the final details on the first event on our social calendar; as co-head cheerleaders it is our job to plan the first party of the year and Kurt was telling me that in celebration of the squads double hat trick we would be hosting a blow out at his place this Friday."

"I said what now?" Kurt saw how Santana's lie had curbed their aggression, "Oh yes, at my place! This Friday; with lots of boys in attendance."

"And alcohol."

The girls stopped chasing and started jumping up and down in excitement; discussing outfits and boys they were planning on hooking up with.

"Nine O'clock," Santana called out after the girls who had taken the lead after recomposing themselves.

"I can't throw a party," Kurt panicked as the severity of their promise to the squad, "I've never done it before and my parents won't allow it. Heck, even if they did allow it; I don't have the means to procure alcohol for that many people." He turned to the Latino girls, "You just ruined my life."

"Look," she spoke frankly, "You were going to have to throw that party anyway. It's a school tradition and as the new cheer captain it's your responsibility. I'll help you out; let's just say that I've got friends in low places and leave it at that."

"Why do I feel like you're making this up?" He was always cautious of the brunette who'd proved herself to be a slippery serpent on countless occasions, "Why is this the first time I'm hearing of this tradition in all my time at this school?"

"Well, most people didn't know you existed till last year when you became a social pariah due to your association with the nude erections," She cocked a hip and gave him a look that simply said 'you do the maths.'

"Granted," he knew that every word she'd said was true, "Who do I invite?"

"You don't invite anyone," She looked insulted by the question, "You tell your clique, in this case the cheerios, and the rest will materialise as the news travels."

Kurt pondered what kind of reputation he'd procure from this kind of trivial high school behaviour.

~0~

Kurt knocked on the standard looking hospital door, he wasn't sure what to expect due to the suspect way the project head had smiled at him as she handed him his assignment. "Mr Karofsky," Kurt called out through the Plexiglas pane; he was met with no reply. He knocked once more and called out again but was met by only the sound of shuffling. Kurt made an informed decision to enter the room; he saw his patient lying on the bed staring at the ceiling.

"Go away." The man's voice was tired and gruff.

"Good Afternoon Mr Karofsky, I'm Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and I will be the sole volunteer working on your case. I will come by on Mondays and Wednesdays to spend two hours keeping you company," Kurt squeezed in a dazzling smile, "This is my first time doing this so I've been given a card with recommended topics that will help us get to know each other better." Kurt waited for any kind of acknowledgement on the patient's part but was met with an eerie silence, "I was going to bring flowers but I wasn't sure of your allergies so I brought a cactus because of their low allergen content and they are very low maintenance."

The silence lingered whenever Kurt was quiet, he referred to his card, "The card says telling you about myself will help bridge the gap. I'm Kurt, wait we've already established that much. I'm an honour roll student, top achieving student in the state and probably the Midwest; I'm interested in politics and social development; I'm co-head cheerleader, I chair the Model UN at my school, I'm president of the debating society, I'm a member of the school show choir- we went to regionals last year, I write a column for the school newspaper, I run and manage a liberal politics blog and I work two jobs."

Kurt took in a deep breath hoping for a reply but only the silence remained, "I work as a waiter at Breadsticks and as a tutor for the learning disabled. Right now I'm working with an elementary school kid with dyslexia and an IQ of a hundred and seventy-four; he wants to be a surgeon and is taking advanced classes so I don't really tutor him so much as babysit him." Kurt chuckled lightly the pride he felt when he spoke of her charges, he sounded like a proud parent and his eyes got all starry, "I'm also working with middle school girl who has trouble with math and reading due to late diagnosis; she has trouble mastering the methods for curbing the effect of her dyslexia on her school work so I'm working parallel to an occupational therapist to help her get a grip on them. She says she's going to be an artist, she's so good and is sure to be the next Van Gogh."

The silence was beginning to get on his nerves; he now understood the grin on that smug cow's face and knew he would rise to the challenge or die trying- maybe that was a little extreme but Kurt wouldn't quit so long as he had the time to work on this project, "My waiting job isn't as glamorous or as fulfilling but it's a fixed daily appointment with my best friend who unfortunately goes to a different school, her parents don't believe in public school education like I do." He paused to fish for a reply but was unsuccessful, "We spend most of the evening chatting. We both work because the ability to hold down a job looks good on a college application, also we were each saving for cars but I'm done with that part of my life now."

Kurt was tired of playing the defensive, "You know, I bought my car from a dealership owned by a Paul Karofsky. He's my stepmother's high school boyfriend and my dad's lawyer, it's a messy situation but he was each separately before they met. Are you two related? Because that would make for such a small world but you know it's not too unusual in a small town."

Kurt was met with silence and realised that whilst he had talked the man into a mild coma, time had flown by at a stellar speed. "Mr Karofsky, it seems like our time together has come to an end. I will see you on Monday at ten."

Mr Karofsky did neither reply nor moved but rather remained fixed in his position lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

~0~

Kurt was home in time for supper as usual but he was not in the mood to sit and play chipper for forty-five minutes. He took his seat and Carole placed a poached haddock in front of him, his meals were rotational due to his dietary needs unlike the ever-changing beef ensembles enjoyed by the rest of the family. He smiled and thanked Carole for the minimal effort she'd put into his meal.

"So, how was school?" His father directed the question toward Finn but Kurt chose to steal the moment.

"Well, it started strange because someone I don't know complimented me on my new car. Then it got really awkward when Rachel Berry asked me if I was prostitute during Glee, you remember that don't you Finn? Then during lunch Finn asked me if I was a prostitute before punching Noah for having lunch with me." Kurt paused for a moment hoping his father would intervene but that wasn't fruitful,"But then it took a strange when I was appointed co-head cheerleader after resigning from the squad. I then started my new volunteer job at the hospital keeping the sickly company which brings me back to now, eating haddock for the second time this week."

"That sounds like a very tiring day," Carole spoke sweetly and with a smile on her face, "You must be so tired."

"I am," Kurt dramatically let out a huff, "Being called a hooker really takes it out of you."

"Wait," his father said finally, "So you did say prostitute." Kurt nodded, "Finn! Why would you accuse your brother of prostitution? Do you realise the seriousness of that accusation? Kurt could press charges of sexual harassment and you could be expelled."

"Where would you get such an idea?" Carole asked with anger now oozing in her tone.

"Well," Finn twiddled his thumbs and looked down into his lap before snapping into a rage filled accusatory rant, "Rachel said that Kurt left school in a black town car with an old man she saw him kiss."

"I kissed my uncle on the cheek," Kurt spoke in a tired defeated tone, "Air kisses actually, it really irritates him."

"You heard us discussing Kurt's outing with his uncle at dinner last night," Carole was disciplinary in her tone, "You're grounded for a week."

"Oh wow," Kurt spoke with a thick layer of sarcasm, "My honour is worth an entire week."

"You're just lucky Kurt wouldn't press charges," His father said firmly.

"Oh I am," Kurt was firm and didn't smile nor flinch at their horrified looks, "As a human rights activist what would I tell the masses who will one day vote for me if I allow sexual harassment to stand in any form."

"You can't be serious," His father was blunt, "He's your brother, surely you can reconsider now that he's been punished accordingly."

"He shouldn't get away with a slap on the wrists for deformation of character, assault, sexual harassment and disturbing the peace." Kurt was on the offensive now, their parent's had switched sides in heart beat and that unsettled him, "That isn't how justice works, not in America."

"Well," Carole spoke soothingly, almost as though she were trying to curb his anger, "What punishment would you recommend?"

"Five weeks grounding," Kurt spoke clinically, "No phone, no computer, no television, no tablet, no internet and no friends. Effective immediately."

"What if I need that stuff for school?" Finn demanded.

"Please," Kurt laughed at the absurdity of the statement, "You don't do school work, that's why you're in freshman algebra again."

"Not again," Finn spoke with pride as though he was about to pull one over on Kurt, "Still."

"That isn't any better," Carole said shaking her head, "I agree to Kurt's terms."

"I second," Kurt liked the way family court worked, "and so the motion stands."

"Now on the lighter side," Kurt spoke with a sweet smile of victory on his face, "Please may I use the secondary house on Friday night and Saturday morning?"

"For what reason?" Carole asked suspicious of his motives.

"I'm having a party," Kurt chose to be honest with the pair, "I know it's on the market but I figured I could have a party without disturbing you and then I'd hire a cleaning service the following morning."

"Why are you throwing a party?" His father gave him a quizzical look, "I've never once heard of you attending or wanting to attend a party."

"It's my duty as head cheerleader to host the first official social event of the year," Kurt was frank and clinical in his tone, "It sets the tone for the rest of the year."

"You're throwing the party?" Finn scoffed, "This is going to be the worst year in McKinley history. Are you going to have a book club meeting?"

"You know I had to leave book clubs after the heated Hemmingway vs. Dan Brown argument." Kurt shook his head at the memory, "As if anyone could match Dan Brown ever."

"If you guys let him throw this party it'll ruin everyone's year." Finn was acting out because Kurt got him in trouble, "If the first party of the year stinks, every party that follows stinks."

"It doesn't matter what you think," Kurt smirked at his stepbrother, "you can't attend because you're grounded."

"What harm could it do to let him throw his little party?" Burt asked innocently.

"Well," Carole pondered the pros and cons of this party, "Kurt has always proved himself responsible, just take care of your mother's house."

"I promise that I will leave the house in a pristine manner," Kurt tried his hardest not too cackle manically.

~0~

"You know how community service is supposed to be rewarding?" Kurt asked the almond eyed girl, "Well he managed to take that away by lying there in silence and forcing me to talk about myself the entire session."

"What did you expect?" the shorter girl quipped at him cynically, "his youth is fleeting whilst he's confined to a five by five hospital room, he's not exactly going to be happy camper."

"Dax, you're supposed to be on my side," Kurt whined to his childhood friend, "Now say he's being a jerk for not acknowledging my presence."

"If there is one thing Da-Xai Khan has," Kurt knew that her holier than thou mantra would follow, "it's my dignity."

Kurt smiled slyly before dropping a comment he knew would rattle her cage, "Because your virginity left the building years ago."

"I'm not ashamed," Dax tried to cover the embarrassment that came with the memory of her first time but it was to no avail, "But I wouldn't expect you to understand the complexities of sex, you've never even been kissed."

Kurt was silent for a moment, "So he just pretended I wasn't there and carried on like an emo teenager. If I wanted emo teenagers I would have stayed in peer counselling."

"Wait a second," Dax smile villainously, "You only divert conversations to avoid lying because you're terrible at it!"

"No I don't," Kurt giggled nervously.

"Yes you do," She smirked at him, "You avoid lying like you avoid everything you're bad at."

"That is an absurd accusation," Kurt turned his nose up at her, "I happen to love building myself by working on my flaws."

"Really?" Kurt nodded in agreement, "Then you wouldn't mind making me pigs in a blanket."

"I would," Kurt knew just how to outsmart the petite girl, "I would but I know you can't eat pork due to religious restrictions."

"You're good but that doesn't negate your unwillingness being a result of your inability to make pastry." She crossed her arms, "Now tell me."

"Customers," Kurt scurried away from the imposing girl. The joy of escaping Dax's interrogation was quickly crushed by the familiar faces, Kurt dreaded having to serve his peers due to their ill-mannered nature, "Good evening, I'm Kurt and I will be waiting on you this evening."

"Well," one of the jocks, Kurt recognised the senior as Vance Schmidt from the baseball team, leaned forward in his seat and put his arm around the cheerleader he was escorting, Kurt gave her a knowing smile, "If it isn't Lady Hummel. If you're weighting on us, how much do you bench? Because I don't think you can handle this."

"Firstly, I'll be waiting with an 'A-I' not with an 'E-I-G-H'." Kurt flipped his hair to the side, "Secondly, I bench press more than your IQ. Finally, I have neither the intention nor desire to handle any of whatever that is."

The pair of girls- Kristen and Riley from the cheer squad- exchanged giggles at the expense of the jock, the blonde was the first to speak, "Kurty-pooh, totes looking forward to the party this Friday." Kristen shot him a sultry smile before exchanging looks with her ginger, "Riley and I are sure it's going to be the hottest ticket of the year."

"I heard that Santana told Ashley that there was going to be imported polish vodka and French champagne," She giggled in excitement, "I even heard from Quinn who swears she heard Finn say that your parents were letting you have it at the country club."

"Ladies," He laughed at how news, even falsified accounts, always had sources that seemed reliable, "Can I please take you orders."

"Lady, don't keep us in the dark." Kristenwhined after him.

"Tell us," Rileypleaded, "I heard that Thurston was going to try and gate-crash."

"Wait a minute," the other jock, James Hotchkiss of the football team, spoke up; "Lady Loser Hummel is throwing the party of the decade? You've got to be shitting me."

"My lips are sealed," Kurt knew that the mystery was now half the success of the party, "And so are Santana's."

He returned to the counter to see an angry Da-Xai, "You ran away from my question."

"Before I get into that," he leaned in close and whispered, "I'm having a party at my old house on Friday, be there slut."

"As though my Chinese tiger mother and overbearing Iranian father would let me go to a party," she shot him a look that said 'bitch really'.

"Just tell them you're going to my place for a slumber party."

"Whatever," she hated it when he was right, "Now tell me, what you have been up to that has you acting so skittish when the topic of intimacy comes around."

"I sort of got kissed."

"How do you 'sort of' get kissed?" She asked supressing the squeal that was building up within her, "It's either you got kissed or you didn't."

"That's the complicated part," Kurt took a deep breath before explaining the situation, "He strictly didn't kiss my lips; he brushed his over them a couple of times and he kissed me on the cheek. He then ravaged the nape of my neck and pinned me against the wall for an intense make-out session."

"I've read romance novels less explicate than that," Dax was shocked, "I don't even think you're still a virgin let alone never been kissed. You didn't tell me you were dating, who is he?"

Kurt blushed, "this is where the universe turns inside out; I'm not dating him."

"You are someone else," She hopped on the spot clapping excitedly, "You never break the rules and now you're making out with randoms, next you'll tell me it was a stranger."

"It most certainly was not," Kurt quipped before realising he'd have to reveal the Noah's identity.

"Oh my god," She was practically foaming at the mouth at this point, "Do I know them."

"No," Kurt was shocked at what she had implied, "I didn't make out with Matt Rutherford or anyone else we both know. If you must know it was Noah Puckerman."

"From that incestuous singing group you're in?" Her mouth hung open, "Oh my god! He's like made out with everyone in Lima."

"Isn't that a bit of a stretch?" Kurt felt uncomfortable being part of the masses.

"Okay granted," She shrugged that off and went in for the kill again, "but didn't he get your brothers girlfriend pregnant?"

"Firstly, Finn is dating Rachel Berry so his opinion and feelings mean nothing to me," Kurt was upset by how everyone seemed to defend the big lug, "Secondly, we just made-out once; we're not eloping and adopting Lupita Nyong'o."

"Good, Brangelina would kill you for her."

"So calm down," Kurt spoke as he placed in front of the party of cheerios and jocks, "I'm not even committing to him or exploring a relationship with him, it was one time." He turned to the group of his peers, "Are you ready to order?"

* * *

**Hope this was to your satisfaction... more along**


End file.
